Im not going to talk about this strike, she said when she could make herself heard. Its over. I want to tell you about the next oneand the next. I wish very much I could make you understand about the strikes that are coming.

Perhaps theres some of you never thought much about strikes till now. Well. Theres been strikes all the time. I dont believe theres ever been a year when there wasnt dozens here in New York. When we began, the skirt-finishers was out. They lost their strike. They went hungry just the way we did, but nobody helped them. And theyre worse now than ever. There aint no difference between one strike and another. Perhaps they are striking for more pay or recognition or closed shops. But the next strikell be just like ours. Itll be people fighting so they wont be so much slaves like they was before.

The Chairman said perhaps Id tell you about my experience. There aint nothing to tell except everybody has been awful kind to me. Its fine to have people so kind to me. But Id rather if theyd try to understand what this strike business means to all of us workersthis strike weve won and the ones that are coming.

I come out of the workhouse today, and they tell me a lady wants to give me money to study, she wants to have me go to college like I was a rich girl. Its very kind. I want to study. I aint been to school none since I was fifteen. I guess I cant even talk English very good. Id like to go to college. And I used to see pictures in the papers of beautiful rich women, and of course it would be fine to have clothes like that. But being in a strike, seeing all the people suffer, seeing all the crueltyit makes things look different.

The Chairman told you something out of the Christian Bible. Well, we Jews have got a story tooperhaps its in your Bibleabout Moses and his people in Egypt. Hed been brought up by a rich Egyptian ladya princessjust like he was her son. But as long as he tried to be an Egyptian he wasnt no good. And God spoke to him one day out of a bush on fire. I dont remember just the words of the story, but God said: Moses, youre a Jew. You aint got no business with the Egyptians. Take off those fine clothes and go back to your own people and help them escape from bondage. Well. Of course, I aint like Moses, and God has never talked to me. But it seems to me sort of as ifduring this strikeId seen a BLAZING BUSH. Anyhow Ive seen my people in bondage. And I dont want to go to college and be a lady. I guess the kind princess couldnt understand why Moses wanted to be a poor Jew instead of a rich Egyptian. But if you can understand, if you can understand why Im going to stay with my own people, youll understand all Ive been trying to say.

Were a people in bondage. Theres lots of people whos kind to us. I guess the princess wasnt the only Egyptian lady that was kind to the Jews. But kindness aint what people want who are in bondage. Kindness wont never make us free. And God dont send any more prophets nowadays. Weve got to escape all by ourselves. And when you read in the papers that theres a strikeit dont matter whether its street-car conductors or lace-makers, whether its Eyetalians or Polacks or Jews or Americans, whether its here or in Chicagoits my Peoplethe People in Bondage who are starting out for the Promised Land.

She stopped a moment, and a strange look came over her facea look of communication with some distant spirit. When she spoke again, her words were unintelligible to most of the audience. Some of the Jewish vest-makers understood. And the Rev. Dunham Denning, who was a famous scholar, understood. But even those who did not were held spellbound by the swinging sonorous cadence. She stopped abruptly.

Unless Ive forgotten my Hebrew, the Reverend Chairman said, stepping forward, Miss Rayefsky has been repeating Gods words to Moses as recorded in the third chapter of Exodus. I think its the seventh verse: